


The Post

by Pandoras_box1617



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Emissary Nolan, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-03-21 16:10:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandoras_box1617/pseuds/Pandoras_box1617
Summary: Gabe's antics had always been ridiculous, but when one of his dumb fits of boredom causes Nolan to inadvertently fall in love with a boy on the internet, things start getting a little complicated.





	1. A Fit of Boredom

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first Nett story. I've seen this paring with some Thiam stories, and I got hooked. So i decided to try my hand at it. Hope you all enjoy.   
> (And because I love Thiam, there will be Thiam in this story as well)

Nolan was in Sophomore year when he was speed-walking down the school hallway and accidentally crashed into a distracted brunette who was hovering near a bulletin board, making him spill his cola all over himself.

"I'm so sorry!" Nolan had stammered, "I was trying to make it to Economics before the bell!"

Nolan waited for an angry retort but was instead greeted by howls of laughter. He stood blankly before the sopping boy, looking from the white shirt he had ruined to the hazel eyes that were streaming with tears.

"What?" he asked, when the red-faced boy finally stopped laughing.

"Nothing." The boy replied, wiping his eyes. "I just didn't realize there were people in this school who were that excited to get to Economics class."

Nolan later told his mother that he hadn't ever met anyone so peculiar. Which is why, he admitted, he had to become friends with him.

It had been three years since that day. Three long, wonderful years that comprised of eating buckets of ice cream while yelling at the television, of almost burning down the kitchen, of music festivals, somber conversations and lip-syncing to dramatic Beyoncé songs while the other kids were off smoking in 'the alley'. After three years of friendship, Gabe was more of a brother to Nolan than his actual half-brother was. Not that Scott was a bad brother. But the significant difference between their ages, and the unfortunate fact that Scott had moved to the outskirts of California, kept the two boys from being anything more than adoring acquaintances. Gabe, on the other hand, had been there through it all. He'd laughed when Nolan choked on his first cigarette, patted him on the back when he'd had his first kiss, defended him when Tracy had called him an emaciated owl and shrieked with joy when Nolan had announced he'd gotten into UCDAVIS. What meant the most to Nolan, however, was the way he had reacted when Nolan had told him his secret.

Nolan could remember the day vividly.

He had known Gabe for a year and a half at that point, and he finally felt like enough time had passed in their relationship to tell him the truth. He later told Gabe that he had been 'nervous', but that was actually a colossal understatement. He was so anxious he could barely breathe.

His mother had advised him not to. "People change when they find out things like this," she had warned him, "I would wait a while longer."

But Nolan had insisted. "You're the one who taught me that it's nothing to be ashamed of. That it makes me special. How can I let Gabe call me his best friend when he doesn't know something that's such an important part of me?"

He'd known it was dangerous. After all, his revelation could result in a lot more than just a broken friendship. But he trusted Gabe. So, he had gathered his courage, dropped his gaze and said the three terrifying words.

"Werewolves are real," he blurts out, not letting Gabe talk as he continues to babble. “Well more than werewolves, but that’s not the point. The point is that I am apart of a group trained to protect and guide them, called emissaries. So, I kind of sorta have magic as well.” 

He remembered hearing Gabe’s breath hitch right before the room dropped into a steely silence. Nolan had continued staring at his shoes, heart pounding, not daring to look up and see the expression on his friend's face.

Finally, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and glanced up to find himself staring into those familiar eyes.

"And despite that, you still haven't found a way to fix your hair." Gabe shook his head, reprovingly. 

"Honestly Nolan, there must be some sort of spell to keep it from… jumping all over the place.”

That was Gabe. Flippant, obnoxious and an absolute joy to be around. Which is why it killed Nolan that in a few short months he'd be leaving - the two people he loved the most in the world - to attend UCDAVIS.  
_ _  
"I'm so bored!" Gabe whined, emphasizing his words with a feigned nasal tone. He sat up on the bed and threw Nolan an accusatory look from across the room.

"I have to study." Nolan reminded him, waving the thick book in the air before opening it up again.  
"Why?" he demanded, "You already got into university."

"That doesn't mean I want to fail senior year."

Gabe flopped back onto the bed, making the bedsprings screech in protest.

"I can't believe you're leaving," he mumbled.

Nolan peered up from his book and watched his best friend stare at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars Scott had stuck on the ceiling all those years ago.

"Gabe?" He asked, cautiously.

The boy didn't respond.

It made Nolan's heart ache when Gabe fell into such silences, because it was a reminder of just how much his looming departure was affecting him. Gabe usually gave off an air of nonchalance regarding everything, so seeing him brood made Nolan want to apologize a thousand times more for choosing UCDAVIS over UCLA.

But Nolan knew he'd made the right decision. While it pained him to leave Gabe (and even more so to leave his mother) it was essential that he get away. He'd never set foot outside of Morro Bay, yet he'd grown up knowing that he didn't fit in. He'd always been a friendly and outgoing person, but apart from Gabe he hadn't really been able to relate to the kids he went to school with. They were close-minded, unable to fathom that there was a world beyond the narrow walls of their stifling town. It wasn't that Nolan wasn't happy with his life in Morro Bay… he just never felt like he served any purpose there.

"I promise I'll keep in touch," he said, earnestly.

"I won't have time to read your colossal emails," Gabe groused. But he sat up on the bed and glared at Nolan.

"Why are you going anyway?"

There was a short pause as Nolan stared helplessly back at him, desperately seeking the right words. But once again they evaded him, and he settled instead for his trademark answer. "You know why."

It was vague, but somehow Gabe seemed to understand. He scowled at Nolan like a petulant child who had just been denied a chocolate bar.

"But why UCDAVIS? It's so bloody far away. Why don't you go somewhere closer?”

"I honestly don't know," Nolan confessed. "The university sounded fantastic, the campus is gorgeous…"

"You want to leave, don't you?"

They stared at each other again - Nolan's light blue eyes trying to hide their distress and Gabe's brown ones filled with determination. As expected, Nolan broke first, sighing deeply.

"I just want to see what it's like."

"Why?" Gabe demanded.

Nolan internally flailed to find the words to explain. 'To find my purpose in life' would sound melodramatic and empty, even though it was the truth. He'd been born a child with magic, in a town with no pack. He was like a werewolf in a land of hunters, hiding in plain sight but scared of the day when he would be discovered. Nolan didn't believe in a god, but he'd always felt like he had been put on earth for a reason. He refused to believe he was supposed to wait for an emergency, a pack needing guide once it was to late. He had never told Gabe (or his mother) because he knew they would misunderstand… but he'd always felt like he was just half a person. Incomplete. 

And he knew the missing piece wasn't lying at home.

"Because I don't know what it's like," Nolan said, simply. "I've never been outside of Morro Bay. I just want to explore other places."

Nolan could practically see the thoughts raging in Gabe's mind.

Then why don't you wait till we graduate, and we'll explore together.

How can you abandon me here?

I know you want to do this alone… but why?

But he knew Gabe would never voice what he was feeling. He never did.

"I'm bored." Gabe said eventually, looking around the room.

Nolan rolled his eyes and turned back to his book.

"Where's your laptop?"

He waved a listless hand towards his bedside table and Gabe grabbed the thin Macbook with enthusiastic glee.

"Your password is still Eragon, right?"

"Yeah."

Gabe snickered, "You are such a dork."

"Hey!" Nolan protested, "Eragon was a fantastic book. You would know if you read it."  
"I watched the movie. Eragon was a very badly CGI-ed dragon."

"Ok firstly, the movie is utter rubbish. Secondly, Eragon is the boy, not the dragon and third something cannot be CGI-ed. CGI stands for…"

"Way to prove you're not a dork, dragon boy."

Gabe's head was buried in the laptop, and Nolan could hear him typing furiously.

"I'm the dork? You're the one who practically started crying when Andrew Scott signed your copy of 'The Final Proble…."

"What's your email address?" Gabe asked, interrupting him.

Nolan frowned, "Nhall at Gmail… why?"

"No reason."

He looked at Gabe suspiciously, and the boy gave him a guileless smile before turning back to the computer screen. Nolan was about to turn back to his book when a sudden realization hit him, and he groaned.

"You're not changing my facebook status to 'Nolan is a dingbat' again, are you?"

Gabe laughed. "No, but that was hilarious."

Nolan threw down his book, accepting that studying for his upcoming History test was a fruitless endeavor while Gabe was in his house, and sat down on the bed beside him, trying to peer over his shoulder.

"Honestly, what are you doing?"

"You'll see," Gabe said, moving the laptop away.

Nolan didn't like the impish glint he had in his eye. He lunged for the laptop, but the brunette anticipated his move and held the device out of reach.

"What are you doing?" Nolan demanded, getting on his knees and trying to grab the laptop again. "If you are downloading another Hannah Montana album, I swear to god…"

Gabe finally brought the laptop down and dumped it on the bed-spread. Nolan stared perplexed at the purple web-page open before him.

"The Post?" He asked, turning to Gabe uncertainly, "What's this?"

"You've never heard of it?" Gabe asked, disbelievingly, "There are ads for it everywhere."

Nolan stared at the computer screen. The page was cluttered with white boxes filled with text, above which hung the title written in calligraphic black lettering. An owl was perched on the 't', staring down at the tagline: The owl Gabe show you the way.

Nolan snorted, "The owl Gabe show you the way? To what? The loser who came up with that line?"  
He reached for the laptop, but Gabe grabbed it from the bed.

"I'm not done creating your profile yet." He said, matter-of-factly.

"My what?"

"Your profile. This is a pen-pal website."

"Huh?"

Nolan leaned over Gabe to get a better look at the screen.

"Basically," Gabe continued, the keys chattering beneath his fingers, "you make a profile about yourself. Sort of like an ad for yourself, if you will. Then you post your email address. People who want to be your pen pal will email you, and you can send a few emails back and forth to see if you get along. If you don't, you hang back and wait for someone else to email you. But if you do get along, you remove your profile, essentially showing the world that you have found your pen pal soulmate."  
"That doesn't sound too… I'm a girl?" Nolan yelped.

Gabe had started creating the profile, but it wasn't about Nolan. It was about an 18-year-old girl who sounded extremely dramatic. It wouldn't have bothered Nolan, except that 'she' had his email address.  
"What is this crap? Give me that…" Nolan dove for the laptop again, but Gabe managed to grab it in time.

"You know I always get my way with these things," He said, smirking at him.

Nolan knew it was true. There was no one more stubborn than Gabe. So, he huffed and fell back into the pillows, fuming silently as Gabe typed away, breaking into giggles at regular intervals. After a few moments, the computer was shoved proudly into Nolan's hands and he read the profile slowly, groaning as he realized that Gabe had already submitted it to the site.

Girl, 18.  
A wild-eyed dreamer.  
Abandoned, Forsaken, Forlorn.  
No one understands me. Am I speaking another language?  
I'm a melancholic alcoholic, trapped in the neon colors of my mind.  
I just want someone to talk to. Someone to sympathies with me. Someone to care for me and think about me and hold my hand while I take flight and defy the rules. Someone.  
Someone.  
I need someone.

"Lost and snared in the twilight forest of your mind  
Strangling claustrophobia, losing your sense of time  
Besieged by people, yet consumed by isolation.  
Hollow thoughts, empty dreams, a mental stagnation."

Nolan was giggling by the time he finished reading the profile. He'd always claimed that Gabe had a talent for coming up with the most absurd ways to alleviate his boredom, and this just proved it.

Unfortunately, the repercussions of Gabe's boredom-induced antics always ended up affecting Nolan.

Like the time Gabe had 'friended' random people on Nolan's Facebook, so that he was constantly getting bizarre messages from odd people. Or when he'd tried to do tie-dye and ended up coloring all of Nolan's socks bright pink. Not to mention the time Nolan's first and only girlfriend, Hayden, had found the Hannah Montana album Gabe had downloaded on to Nolan's computer and made him watch all four seasons with her.

"Seriously Gabe?" Nolan asked, turning to his grinning friend.

It was obvious that Gabe's ridiculous profile would only attract weirdos. His so-called 'best friend' had basically made sure that his inbox would be plagued with emails from overly dramatic, mournful people for the next few months.

"Abandoned, Forsaken, Forlorn?" Nolan asked, disbelievingly.

"I just looked up the word 'alone' in the thesaurus," Gabe said, chuckling. "Didn't you like the melancholic alcoholic bit? It rhymes!"

Nolan shook his head, trying to seem pissed but was unable to hide a smile.

"Hey, it’s not completely made up," Gabe pointed out. "I put that poem you wrote in it."

"Yeah, I noticed."

The last four lines of the profile was from a poem on Nolan's blog. It was a very simple poem. One of his worst - in Nolan's opinion - but it came to him on a day he felt particularly alienated. He had left it on his blog because he felt like it managed to capture, in a very raw way, what he was feeling at the time. As usual, Gabe had read it, laughed and called Nolan a powder puff. He'd always thought Nolan's poetry was 'lame'… which was probably why he made sure to put some in the profile.

"Bloody hell, Gabe, now my email address is out there for the entire world to see. What if someone we know sees the profile?"

Gabe's mouth dropped open in feigned surprise, "You know other people!?"

Nolan stuck his tongue out at him and Gabe laughed.

"Relax. You'll get a bunch of weird replies, we'll laugh over them and then delete them. No big deal. I'm hungry. Are any of those cookies your mom made still there?"


	2. A Response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is not very long, but I will make it up with the next one!

The sound of tapping buttons filled the room. Lori’s car was a lap behind, but he knew that did not mean she couldn’t overtake his, it has happened many times before. Biting his lip in concentration, hammering the buttons on the controller with passionate energy. The car zoomed past the finish line cheering in victory, throwing his controller on the floor. 

“You’re out of practice. What was that like the fifth time I’ve beat you today.”

Turning to give the blonde beside him a lopsided smile, silver eyes shining with excitement.

Watching as she placed her controller down, rolling her eyes “Don’t let it get to your head, I’ve just been too busy with finals. Not all of us are finished with the woes of high school in addition to the pack drama and emergencies.”

Brett frowns at that. A month ago, Lori and himself found themselves without a pack, hunters having slaughtered their Alpha and the rest while the two were away on collage visits. The Hale pack took them in, saying something about owing Satomi a favor and such, but the Hale pack had some troubles of their own. Emissaries to the pack and their allies have been lessening over the years, not many humans having the interest in tying themselves to the supernatural world for their life.

“Lori, Brett,” a gruff voice calling from Brett’s bedroom door. Peter. His brain supplied without him having to look at the patriarch of the Hale family.

“Lori, Erica needs to speak with you about patrol rotations for when the others leave for college,” Peter explains simply, but his voice leaving no argument or question that she was expected immediate before walking away.

Turning to smile at him, shrugging as she stands her expression reading ‘what are you going to do,’ before heading out of the small, but nice bedroom.

 

Reaching over to grab his laptop, looking for mindless distractions pulling up YouTube. Browsing through the music videos, an ad appeared.

The Post?

Brett had heard about the site- having over heard people at his school chatting about the site- but he hasn’t given the site any real thoughts, but he was bored, and the ad looks so inviting. 

Staring at the owl on the homepage, arrow hovering over the red square to exist out of the window. He felt idiotic, he didn’t need a pen pal, but he thinks about how he is leaving is pack soon and how hard t will be for his wolf to be away from the others. Before he knew it, he was scrolling through pages and pages of profiles many of them screaming other supernatural creatures looking for another.

He floated over most of them completely uninterested. The few that caught his eye, he opened in new tabs, hoping to whittle his choices down. But they were varied… he still wasn't sure what he was looking for. He was surprised at just how many people were looking for pen-pals, though. Since when was writing to a stranger such a popular phenomenon? Eventually he found himself browsing through profiles that had been created over a month back. Most of them were stale, boring profiles… the unclaimed ones that hadn't able to capture anyone's attention.

He was just about to give up and go through his shortlist when a post caught his eye. It was an odd post, and Brett found himself laughing as he read it.

Girl, 18.

A wild-eyed dreamer.

Abandoned, Forsaken, Forlorn.

The girl who posted it sounded both extremely needy and extremely strange… neither of which were qualities Brett needed in a pen-pal at the moment. Yet, he couldn't stop re-reading it. There was something about the last four lines of the profile that enticed him.

It was a short poem, he realized. Simple. Bland, almost. But it managed, very profoundly, to describe that hollow feeling in his chest he woke up with every single day since he found himself and Lori without their original Alpha. The fact that someone else had managed to capture a feeling he had been at a loss to illustrate - and in just four lines, at that - struck him. Then again, Brett had never been very eloquent. 

Before he knew it, Brett was copying the email address into a new message: 

Dear...

Well, I don't really know what to call you. You didn't put a name on your profile. But then again, I think that might have been one of the reasons why I picked you to write to. The other reason was that... alright, this is going to sound completely idiotic, but I sort of felt... drawn to you. You posted your profile a month ago and you still haven't found the right pen pal. In a sense, I feel like... well, like I was meant to write to you.

I'm probably coming across as a little creepy, aren't I? What I meant to say is that I understand what you mean in your profile. Particularly that bit in your poem when you talk about feeling like you're utterly alone even when you're surrounded by people. That’s what resounded with me… that poem. It's sort of the way I feel now that I’m leaving for college soon, leaving behind my sister and the others I live with. They are not related to me, but we are a chosen family. As I get ready to leave, a feeling of loneliness at being away from them.

I don't know why I'm saying all this to you. As far as I know you could feed me a bunch of lies and I wouldn't know any better. I watched a TV show once where this guy had been writing to this girl for three years. He poured his heart out to her, and though they never met, she sent him photographs of herself and poems she had written and all this other stuff, and by the end of it he was completely besotted. He eventually managed to track her down and found out that she was a fifty year old schizophrenic woman with four children.

Now I know that was a TV show, but truth is stranger than fiction, right?

But you know what, I don't care even if you are a fifty year old schizophrenic woman with four kids. All I need is what your profile promised me... I just need someone to talk to. I'm not looking for anything more than a sounding board.

That sort of came across as rude, didn't it? I just meant to say that I don't care if you're not what your profile says you are.

If you do decide to reply to me after all the garbage I've just said to you, then I hope we can... well, keep it mysterious.

I guess now you probably think I'm some sort of serial killer... I'm not, by the way... but for my own comfort I'd like it if we didn't share any personal details with each other - I don't think we should share our real names or where we live or anything like that.

That said, I really do hope you reply. As I said, there's... well, there was something about your profile... I just can't put my finger on it... but I feel like we'd get along.

Cheers,

Faltering at the end of the letter as he rakes his mind for a name.

Smiling as he finished the letter, sending out the message. Now he waits.


	3. What's Next?

Nolan stared at the email blankly.

You didn’t put a name on your profile, the letter said.

‘What profile?’ Nolan thought to himself. It must have been a spam mail, or perhaps someone from a dating website had accidentally entered his address by mistake. Moving his curser to the reply button to inform the sender of this, it suddenly hit him.

That absurd pen-pal website Gabe had signed him up for over a month ago, and oh god that profile made Nolan shudder at just the thought if it,

Gabe had been extremely disappointed when two weeks had passed, and no replies had come. Nolan hadn’t been surprised, he couldn’t imagine a single person who would want to talk with the oddity Gabe had made up. 

But he was surprised now. He tried his hardest to remember the details of the profile, but all he could remember was how ostentatious it sounded. It was unfathomable why anyone would be drawn to it… let alone this adorable sounding, obviously intelligent guy.

Was it a guy? It sounded like a guy. The email was signed with the pseudonym ‘Apollo’. Which is a Greek god and playboy if Nolan recalled correctly. He read the message twice, it would be better to delete it after all. How could he write back to someone who wanted to communicate with Gabe’s creation?

Nolan closed his laptop. He was late for school. He could decide what to do about the letter later.

It wasn't like it was important.

He spent the entire day in an absentminded haze. His geography teacher had even yelled at him for being distracted - something that didn't happen to him very often.

"What's the matter with you, mate?" Gabe asked at lunch.

"Nothing… I just didn't sleep very well last night, that's all."

But it had nothing to do with sleep. He was distracted thinking about how Apollo had said it was the poem in the profile that had resounded with him. The poem. The only bit of the ridiculous profile that was Nolan. He couldn't remember anything Gabe had written, but he remembered the poem. It was a part of a much longer piece he had written on his blog. And that's what Apollo had liked.

Nolan was on his computer mere minutes after coming home from school. His school bag lay sprawled on the floor, and his shoes and jacket were still on, but he found himself fervently typing in the web address for 'The Post'. He had been in his Math lesson when it occurred to him that his profile would still be up on the website… and he was increasingly curious to see what Will had written.

The page loaded, and his heart sank.

This Website No Longer Exists.

Skimming the paragraph below it, learning that the website had been taken down because it broke some sort of law.

What were the chances that the website would be taken down a day after someone wrote to him?

He quickly switched back to the letter, trying to glean anything he possibly could from it about his own profile, but all he remembered was the poem. Nolan almost let out an exasperated scream, but then caught himself. What was the matter with him? Why was he taking this so seriously? It wasn't like he needed to remember what was on the profile to reply. He didn't actually have to respond at all.

But he would be lying if he said he didn't want to.

Apollo was reaching out to him. He sounded… wounded. And for some strange reason Nolan wanted to help him.

It was dark by the time he finished composing his response. He felt foolish for taking so much time and care to write it, but he didn't want to accidentally say anything that could scare the other away. He quickly re-read it, and then hit send, his heart thudding in his chest.

Dear Apollo,

The Greek god of light, skies, and music who happened to be a handsome playboy? My, my aren’t we modest.

To be honest, I'm a little surprised you replied to my profile. From what I remember it was extremely…uh, whiny. And weird. I just want you to know that that is not what I'm like. As in, I'm nothing like the way I - most probably - came across in my profile. I suppose you could say I was in a 'mood' that day. The only bit that was actually me was the poem, and since you mentioned that that was what you related to, I felt that maybe we could get along… but if you're looking for that whiny, dramatic person, I don't quite think either of us would enjoy this very much.

You didn't come across as creepy in your letter at all (were you trying to? If so, you might want to work on that a little). And yes, I get what you mean. I also felt compelled to reply to your email, but I think that has less to do with destiny and fate, and more to do with the things you said.

I know exactly what you mean about being alone even when you're surrounded by people. Sometimes I feel invisible where I live, but mostly I feel like people don't really understand me (I'm sounding like profile now, aren't I?). I don't mean it in a cranky, teenage "No one understands me!" way… I mean it in a 'I feel like I'm out of sync with the rest of the world' way. Like I'm an alien trying to communicate, but people just aren't getting it. And yes, I agree… the problem is people. But I think the solution is also people. More specifically, you need to find the right people. People who can understand you and who will stay by your side even when things get hard. And personally, I believe that when you find them, you will know.

I'm glad it doesn't matter to you if I'm a fifty-year-old schizophrenic woman - I'm not, but why would you take my word for it? I just pretty much admitted that the profile you read about me was full of lies. But here we are, possibly starting a correspondence, and I want to lay it all out there for you. The profile was not me, but this is. And I'm happy to be your sounding board. As it so happens, I need one now as well. I'm leaving everything I know behind in a few months to go off to uni. I'm not scared though. In fact, I'm incredibly excited. I really need this. I feel like… like I've been floundering here, in my town. Honestly, I can't wait to get out. That said, it's still incredibly hard to leave my mother and best friend behind.

I don't know where you're from, and since you've requested to keep the correspondence mysterious, I won't ask. But have you ever travelled? I want to travel. Or at least travel enough to discover where I'm meant to be… because it sure as hell isn't here.

I'm glad you wrote to me, Apollo. I hope you continue to do so.

Best,  
Em

The name didn’t take too long to come up with, it was just a shortened version of the title he soon hope to have. He had bounced between naming himself after someone he knew and naming himself after a character from one of his books, but he couldn't seem to settle on anything. None of those names seemed have any real significance for him.

He would always remember when he found out about the supernatural, and about those who where born or trained to guide the creatures: Emissaries. Finally, he had a reason for his magic and thirst for this side of the world.

It was a name that meant something, but at the same time shrouded in a bit of mystery.


	4. Lost Marbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for both the length and delay for this chapter. I had a bit of writer's block for this story , but I pushed through and the next chapter should be up soon. I hope you enjoy, and if you like my works I should be posting more soon.

I'm ashamed to say I don't read that many books. I'm more of a… TV shows and movies kind of guy. And while I firmly believe that you can learn a lot from TV shows and movies, I agree that there is some sort of… magic… in books that you just can't find anywhere else. It makes me wish I read more of them. But I get bored easily. I sound like a total prick, don't I? But if it's possible to appreciate food without being a gourmet, why isn't it possible to appreciate books without being an avid reader?

From what you've told me it seems like you read a lot. I'm jealous. I wish I had the motivation to sit down with a nice book the way I've been doing with your letters. Now I'm making it sound like I don't read at all. I do, I promise. I've read all seven Harry Potter books (so much of the magic is lost out in the movies, isn't it?), I've read the classics like Dickens and Jane Austen (but that was mostly because I was forced to by my school teachers) and of course, I spent too much of my childhood reading Famous Five. But there has only been one book since I turned fifteen which really struck me. It was called 'The Lionheart' and it was about this great explorer who would go around discovering and conquering lands. One day, he saves his boy from drowning and takes him along on his conquests with him, and over time they grow really close. But here's the thing… this explorer has a great fear of werewolves. He hates them… mostly because he's scared of them and doesn't understand them and he slays any one of them that comes in his way. But it turns out (I'm going to spoil this for you… sorry) that the boy he saved and grew to love is a werewolf. And the boy knows of his fear, so he doesn't tell the explorer what he really is. Well, until much later, anyway.

The thing is, I read the entire book believing that this explorer was the lionheart that the title referred to, but it hit me only after I had finished that he wasn't. It's the boy. He's scared that if he's discovered he'll be killed, but he still stays by the explorer's side because of how much he loves him… and slowly he manages to convince the explorer that werewolves are nothing to be feared. He's the lionheart because he had the courage to push his fear aside to stand for something he believed was the greater good… and I think… well, I think that's beautiful. It's something I aspire to do with my life.

So you're off to uni in a couple of weeks, right? Hope it goes off well. I can only imagine how nervous you must be. Take care, alright? Don't do anything stupid like I would probably do.

Apollo

Nolan held his breath, rereading the last few parts finding the whole thing ironic. Druids, banshees, werewolves -the whole supernatural world- is his biggest secret and here is Apollo talking about his favorite book which is about the hatred/acceptance of werewolves. 

Cursing as he knocked over his coffee as the oven timer went off, lost in his own thoughts. Sighing as he examines the dark stain on his shirt, and the brown liquid spreading on the white tiled floor.

“Gabe, pass that towel please?” 

Gabe, who was lounging on the coach with a comic book, gave the towel on the coffee table a bored, cursory glance.

“I don’t feel like getting up,” he drawled making a show of flipping the page.

Nolan glared at his friend as he walked over, shirt discarded in the kitchen, giving Gabe a hit to the back of his head as he made to grab the towel chuckling at the gruff complaint from the brunette.

“What is the point of having magic or whatever this whole druid, emissary thing if you can not move stuff or hell even blow it up like some Harry Potter shit.” Gabe commented looking over the back of the couch as Nolan cleaned up the spill.

“I told you it is not like that. It more of a knowledge of creatures, rituals, and ancient remedies both non and supernatural.”

Nolan has never had any official lessons. Obviously, no one around here knew about the situations or at least no one that Nolan could tell. He was just grateful for the internet because for just as many fake information there was just a small portion of truth in all of them.

"Can I use your laptop?" Gabe asked.

Nolan sprang to his feet, panic rushing through his body.

"No!" He shouted, making the boy drop his comic book in alarm.

"Christ. What's the matter with you?"

"I… er…" Nolan's ears turned bright red, "don't want you to do random shit on my computer, that's all. I'm sick of having random people from Zimbabwe send me friend requests."

Gabe grinned, "Alright, I promise I won't do anything. I just want to check the match scores."

Nolan felt another wave of panic pulse through him.

The message he had been composing to Apollo was open on the laptop; if Gabe found out that Nolan had a pen pal, he would not only insist on reading all the emails they had sent back and forth, but he would then proceed to laugh at all the 'pansy' things Nolan had confessed to Apollo. He would then most probably call Apollo a loser, gloat about how it was his profile that helped them find each other and get angry that Nolan hadn't informed him as soon as Apollo's first email arrived. And with less than a week before he left, Nolan wanted to avoid as much conflict with Will as he possibly could.

Gabe snapped his fingers in front of Nolan's face, breaking him out of his reverie.

"Earth to Nolan. Where's your laptop?"

"It's broken," Nolan blurted out, "The screen is just all…"

He waved his hands about manically, and Gabe shot him a quizzical look.

"You're really anxious about university, aren't you? You're acting like you've lost your marbles. "

Nolan grinned sheepishly. "I guess a little… nervous about university, that is. I've not lost my marbles. Yet."


	5. Textbooks, roommates, and .....

Dear Apollo,

Did you really? What did he do then? Oh my god! 

That's an interesting question. I think - given the choice - I would prefer to be brilliant and have just one really good friend. Sure, having lots of friends and being dumb is a tempting option, but I think I'd like myself a lot better if I was whip-lash intelligent. And if I have just one friend in the world who appreciates me and loves me despite how annoying - I presume - extreme intelligence makes me, then I think I'd be happy. Sometimes you just need that one person, you know?

Now, your question about what my greatest fear is. So, I always give you deep answers regarding questions like this, and I'm sure you're expecting me to say something like 'to die without having done anything of importance' or 'to do something evil believing I'm doing something good' but here's the honest truth - my greatest fear is snakes. They scare the crap out of me with their beady little eyes and their creepy pronged tongues and ugh… It's because when I was a child, I used to have dreams of a woman who would use a snake to control me. It would crawl under my skin and sit there… and then anything she would tell me to do, I couldn't help but do it. I used to have the same nightmare over and over again, but luckily it stopped after I turned twelve. It was terrible though. I still get shivers just thinking about.

Sorry this letter is so short, I have tons more to do before I leave. But I did want to ask you… don't answer if you think this is too personal, but… why did you choose the name Apollo? I mean, given the choice why?

Cheers,

Em  
\--  
Nolan would have managed to catch the bag if he hadn't been obliged to stifle his instincts and force himself to reach out with his hands, rather than with that sinuous surge of power that was always clamoring to come crashing out through the too-fragile barrier of his skin. It was in this moment he whished his powers were more like Gabe’s imagination as his physical reaction was a hair's breadth too slow, which meant that he still got smacked on the head by a heavy bag and went stumbling back into a cross-looking middle-aged lady in a twinset and pearls. Which was not so good.

"Sorry, sorry!" he exclaimed, clutching at a seat back with one hand for balance and raising the other one palm-open in a gesture of placation, offering her his very best apologetic smile and puppy dog eyes. She glared at him but was evidently too busy to do anything other than treat him to a passive-aggressive glower. "Really," he tried again, rubbing his skull gingerly, "I'm most terribly sorry!"

"Hmph," was all he got in response, but he was distracted from his victim by a voice behind him.

"No, please – it was my fault!" He turned back to see the owner of the voice and of the bag which he'd just failed to catch: a pretty girl in a red hoody who was biting her bottom lip and looking stricken as she clutched the offending bag tightly to her chest. She glanced from Nolan to the lady and then back again, her face the picture of mortification, and Nolan took one look at her huge brown eyes and immediately wanted to reassure her that he had thoroughly enjoyed being knocked half unconscious. "I'm so sorry!" she said again. "Are you okay? God, you poor thing!" She reached up to touch the bump on his head and Nolan winced in spite of himself. "

“Are you carrying bricks in there?” He asks trying to lighten the mood.

“Biology textbooks,” she replied wrinkling her nose, “though they might as well be bricks.”

“Freshmen?” She nodded. “Me too! So based on the train I would have to say we both are headed to the same school, UCDAVIS. I’m Nolan by the way.” 

“Great, and to think I made a friend because of a textbook assault.” She smiled/ “My name’s Hayden.”

"Can you get a move on?" snapped a voice from somewhere behind the girl, and they both jumped, and then giggled some more like naughty children. Nolan grabbed the bag out of her hands, his breath still coming in giddy, hitching gasps as he tried to stifle his laughter, and reached up to stuff it more securely into the luggage compartment. She looked rather impressed – not to say startled – at the ease with which he manhandled it into place, he thanks the years of lacrosse training for the strength. 

“Come on, I’ll by you a coffee to apologize for the assault.” Her warm fingers curling around his hand, but he followed her willingly. 

Nolan felt high on happiness, not having made a friend this easily since Gabe. “You are brilliant Hayden,” he said wanting to hug her, but not wanting to risk getting yelled at. “I’m glad you tried to knock me unconscious with a bag of brick-like text books. “  
\--  
The door was open when Nolan reached his room, having parted with Hayden after dropping her off at her room, and he could hear voices inside. Apparently, his roommate had arrived early and settled in already. 

Taking a deep breath, he squares his shoulders before pushing open the door and walking in to be meet with the sight of two people. The first was about his height, well-built with blue eyes and longish brown hair while the other was a darker skinned guy with an earring. 

“Hey, I’m Liam your roommate.” The first one says walking up to him and offering his hand. “This is Mason,” he indicated with a nod of his head. “I hope it’s cool I took the wall bed. Wanted more room for my posters.” He explained rubbing his neck. 

“Nah it’s cool man,” Nolan said moving to place his stuff near his bed before talking to the other two, wanting to make a good impression. The conversation lasted for awhile before the other two needed to leave ending with Nolan waving off the offer to joining them saying he already had plans.  
\--  
Most students didn't have to worry about matriculating for several days yet, but Nolan was not most students, so once he'd finished hyperventilating and flailing, and had unpacked some of his things, and changed into a clean t-shirt, he set out in search of Deaton.

UCDAVIS is well known to have a wide array of different schools and officially Deaton is an instructor for the Veterinary program, but thanks to connections Nolan had made through Scott he knows Deaton is an emissary for the local pack thus being his best shot.

Walking into the room, Nolan was struck by the contrast between the cold clinical classroom into the warm, cozy sort of office with books lining every wall from floor to ceiling, and an open fireplace set into the middle of one such wall. Glancing around, he saw a cluttered desk piled high with papers and books and empty coffee mugs and a disemboweled timepiece, with a laptop sitting in the middle of the chaos, ornamented by a half-eaten Jaffa Cake. “Deaton?” 

“Ah you must Mr. Holloway.” A deep voice from the far left near a stack of old leather-bound tomes. Turning his head Nolan sees a dark-skinned man in a basic blue button-up and slacks under a white lab coat, and a look in his eyes that made Nolan wonder just what he had gotten himself into.  
\--

Dear Em,

Sorry I didn't send my email yesterday. I haven't mentioned this to you before, but I'm actually going to university too. I start today.

The reason I didn't mention it before was because - this is going to sound totally absurd - I didn't actually think it was going to happen. But it did. I packed my stuff, got in a car and drove (It's ridiculous the amount of schools that open on the same day. I was stuck in traffic for hours). But anyway, I'm here now. It's so… alien to me. I'm sure that's how you must feel too, what with never having left your town before and all.

Don't worry about not knowing what you're going to do with your life. You'll figure it out one day. Just… keep exploring, I guess. That's what my uncle always says. Try and do everything you possibly can. Maybe one day you'll find what you're looking for.

I know this is probably not what you want to hear right now, but the truth is I've known from the day I was born what I want to become. And I'm well on my way to becoming it. It's sad though, because there are people out there who have the same job who don't want it. I'm not one of those people - I want this more than anything in the whole world, and I honestly believe that I could do it well. I'm not doing it for myself, either. I'm doing it because I know I can help people. I want to help them. But the problem is that other people keep getting in the way. There are people that can make you hate what you love… and I know far too many of them. But I don't want to feel that way. I don't want to hate it.

I'm probably not making any sense. I'd better stop now.

But yes… about the name Apollo. As I've mentioned my sister and I don't live with our parents, haven't for a long time. We live in more of a shared living house, and one of the older kids -Derek was in charged of putting us to sleep. He didn't know very many children's stories, so after Lor outgrew fairy tales he began telling us cleaned-up versions of Greek myths. Apollo is her favorite god, so it just popped into my head when writing the first letter.

What about your pen name? How did you come up with it?

Cheers,

Apollo


End file.
